Bad Ideas, Good Decisions
by BlueSuedeShoes
Summary: Chloe has come to drag Oliver home, determined not to let him drown his sorrows in booze. The longer they're together, though, the more convinced Oliver becomes that leaving is a bad idea.


Oliver could think of about a hundred reasons why he should not be looking at Chloe the way he was. Top of the list: She was his ex-girlfriend's cousin (however long ago that might have been). She was best friends with Clark Kent, who would probably murder him if he could read Oliver's mind right now. Finally, she worked for him, and looking at her this way was undoubtedly a gateway drug to what would eventually be grounds for a lawsuit. All very good reasons to _stop _looking at her that way.

But Oliver just couldn't help it.

It wasn't entirely his fault, he defended himself in his mind. She was the one who'd chosen to wear that backless olive green dress that showed off her legs too much. He felt jealousy flare up as yet another man offered her a drink. Since when did she attract so much attention to herself?

Some brunette was trying very hard to chat up Oliver for herself, hinting shamelessly about going home with him, but from the moment Chloe had walked in the door, his attention span had been fixed solely on her. She hadn't noticed him when she entered the club. She had just gone straight up to the bar, alone, and ordered herself a martini.

Finally he dropped a hint to the brunette that he wasn't interested and she sulked off, looking for a new prospect. He got up from his table and approached Chloe slowly, not really sure what he was thinking, several alarms going off in his head, trying to tell him that this was a bad idea.

Trouble was, he wasn't really sure what the idea _was_. He just knew he was tired of watching all those men throw themselves at Chloe, who was just not doing her part to discourage them.

He was just about to tap her shoulder when she spoke, without turning around to see him. "Hello, Ollie."

"You knew I was here?" he found himself grinning as she turned around on the bar stool.

"I came to bring you home," she said.

"You can't be serious," the grin slid off his face. "But wait...you didn't even look for me when you walked in."

"I knew you'd come find me eventually. We both know why you're here, Ollie."

"And why is that?"

"Because Lois and Clark are celebrating their anniversary tonight. So suddenly noisy clubs, hot women, and potent drinks become ten times more appealing to Oliver Queen, who secretly knows better by now."

"I haven't gotten into any trouble, and I'm barely half way to being drunk."

"I know. That's why I showed up now. You've had your fun. I'm making sure it ends before it turns into something else."

"Hey, this guy bothering you, beautiful?" a man with dark hair, a seductive grin, and a popped collar leaned on the bar next to Chloe, who fought a grin.

Oliver practically growled at him. Where did he get off?

"I'll let you know," Chloe winked at him. "But at the moment, no, he's not." The guy nodded and sauntered off, content for the moment.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at her.

"What?" she shrugged.

"What are you doing giving a grease ball like that the time of day?"

The corner of Chloe's lips twitched. "Jealous, Arrow?"

Oliver scoffed. "Hardly."

"Anyway, you should talk. It's not as though you're picky, and I've got a right to flirt with whomever I want."

Oliver found himself quickly sliding into anger. "That's different. I'm not going to get taken advantage of."

"How cute. And here I thought chivalry was dead."

"Did you seriously come here to pick a fight with me?"

"No, I already told you. I came to take you home before you do something stupid."

"Same thing."

"Hardly."

"Wanna bet?"

"Oh, Oliver, just give it up. You're not going to have a good time, even if you stay. You're just going to brood and set yourself up for a massive hangover. And you're going to do it alone."

"How do you know I'll be alone?" he countered before he could stop himself.

"Oliver, please. You're talking to me right now, which means that you've already turned down whatever women were hanging off your arm at the beginning of the evening. Face it, you don't want some one-night-stand with a floozie whose only interested in your wallet."

Oliver opened his mouth to argue and then shut it again, rethinking it. Then, "Still doesn't mean I'm leaving. Maybe I want to be miserable and alone."

Chloe sighed, her expression softening. She slid a hand over the lapel of his jacket. "Oh, Oliver. Come on. Let me take you home." She stood up as encouragement. "Will it really be that bad if you stop drowning your sorrows _before_ your blood alcohol level starts breaking records?"

"Maybe."

"Ollie!"

"I'll make a compromise with you."

She arched her brow curiously, waiting.

"You have one more drink with me. I get to be slightly more tipsy, and you get to keep an eye on me. Then we leave, if, and only if, you agree to stay with me tonight."

Chloe looked somewhat shocked.

He raised his hands. "Nothing shady, I promise. Just want the company. I refuse to be alone with the silence tonight. That's why I came here," he pointed out.

Chloe nodded, understanding. The thrum of the music had had her feeling like she was in a different world from the moment she walked through the revolving door. She still hesitated. Spending an entire night alone with Oliver Queen? It was just a flat out bad idea. At length, though, she nodded again. "Fine. But I'm leaving you if you try to pull anything," she added.

"At which point I will just end up back at the club," he retorted.

They stared each other down.

"All right, all right!" Chloe gave up.

"Excellent, what are you drinking?"

"Dirty martini," she said.

"Nice dress, by the way," he mentioned when the bartender handed them two drinks. He started walking away.

"Where are you going?" she questioned.

"Um, away from the bar," he said as though it were obvious. "Do you honestly think I want this drink to be wasted on fighting off all the men trying to grope you over there?"

Chloe couldn't help it. She giggled. Oliver was cute when he was jealous. Why he was jealous remained to be seen, but it was cute nonetheless.

"Now," he said, when they were sitting side by side in a curved booth, "mind explaining that dress?"

Chloe frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well you _said_ you came here to take me home. That didn't require getting all dolled up, and I'm assuming it isn't for me."

"Maybe it is for you," Chloe teased, her voice lowering a notch as she leaned toward him seductively.

Oliver cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. He was definitely not drunk enough yet. He took a swig of his drink not looking at her.

Chloe laughed and backed away. "I decided I was going to go out tonight myself, but then I found out that you'd gone off in one of your 'moods,' so I came after you instead. And anyway, I knew it would take you a while to find me, so I decided to enjoy it while it lasted."

"So sorry to ruin your night," Oliver said sarcastically. He felt distinct displeasure at the idea of Chloe going off to some club or bar without any chaperone, _letting_ men hit on her.

She studied him a moment, then sighed. "You're not ruining my night, Ollie. You want to know the truth? I'm kind of glad you gave me the excuse to come after you. I didn't want to be alone and miserable tonight either. It's why _I _was going out. I just didn't intend to get smashed and end up in bed with someone whose last name I didn't know." Oliver was silent, so she went on, determined to convince him that he wasn't somehow burdening her. "And honestly, I don't even like bar-hopping. It's just good for me to get out once in a while, and you know, I always forget how good it can feel to be flirted with once in a while until it happens again. The times are few and far between."

Oliver frowned. "I flirt with you all the time."

She laughed. "Ollie, you don't count!" She rolled her eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, ignoring a slight pang at the words.

"Well, Oliver, I mean someone flirting with me whose actually, you know, _interested_ in me."

"I'm interested in you."

"As a _date_, Oliver."

He kept his mouth shut, fighting the reflex to say he was interested in her as a date. He wasn't. Was he?

Chloe took his silence as consent. "Mmhmm."

"Yeah well it's not like you're going to meet any decent characters around a place like this," he said, diverting her attention.

"_You're_ here," she pointed out, her lip twitching.

"Exactly."

She laughed. "I'm hardly looking for a husband, Oliver. A little attention now and again, though..." she trailed off.

Oliver grabbed a drink off a waiter's tray as he passed by their table.

"Hey, I thought you said only one more," Chloe said, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, well that was before you told me my flirting didn't count for anything. Now I'm drinking out of insecurity." It was actually partially true, not that he admitted that to himself.

Chloe just rolled her eyes. "That's the last one, Oliver. Then we're getting out of here."

The trouble was, Oliver was starting to think that maybe leaving and being totally alone with each other was a bad idea. Worse than staying. The longer he and Chloe sat together, the more time he had to appreciate the low cut neckline of her dress, the smooth skin on he bare back, the shape of her legs as she shifted them, clearly impatient to get out of there. He gulped. Inappropriate ideas were taking more and more defined shape in his mind.

No, he was definitely not drunk enough yet. But a promise was a promise, he reminded himself. She was letting him get away with the second drink; he wouldn't push his luck.

Much.

The next thing he knew he had somehow convinced Chloe to dance with him before they left. He dragged her reluctant form by the hand out onto the floor amidst all the other couples. He pulled her close, hand glad for the excuse to feel the exposed skin of her lower back. She wouldn't look him in the eye while they danced, her eyes darting everywhere but to him. The lighting made it hard to tell, but he suspected she was blushing.

"Embarrassed about something?" he asked in her ear.

She suppressed a shiver. "No."

"You're acting like it."

"Sorry if I'm not used to being this physical with my boss," she said. He could tell she was using sarcasm to hide how uncomfortable she was.

"You do realize we were friends before you started working for me?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"So there's really no good reason to be uncomfortable with this."

"Ollie, it's not as though we were ever that close, you know."

Oliver thought about arguing. She knew just about everything there was to know about him. She knew his greatest virtues as well as his deepest sins. She was the one who had saved him from himself when his life went into a downward spiral of self-destruction. But then he realized it: She knew everything about him, but he knew nothing about her. Not really. He knew some of the basic facts, but overall, she was a complete mystery to him.

In the back of his mind he wondered whether that was why he found her so attractive.

"Let's go," he said finally. She looked at him, surprised.

"And here I thought it was going to take so much more persuasion than that."

He ignored her, guiding her toward the door with his hand still on her back.

"How'd you get here?" he asked when they were outside.

"Taxi."

"Good. We're taking my car."

"Fine, but I'm driving," she said, grabbing the keys from his hand just as he pulled them out of his pocket.

He chuckled, following her to his car. He pressed up against her back slightly, trapping her between him and the car. "Think I can't handle the wheel right now?"

Chloe closed her eyes. "I don't think you can handle much of anything right now," she bit out icily.

Oliver sighed and after a pause pushed himself away from the car and her and climbed into the passenger seat.

"You know, you're very sexy when you're nervous like this."

"Who said I was nervous?" she asked.

Oliver gave a short laugh. "Right. Really, it's very attractive." He looked her up and down.

"Wow, apparently that second drink really was one too many."

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head at her. "Whatever you say."

Back at his penthouse, Chloe began feeling _distinctly_ nervous, however much she wanted to hide it. She had no idea where all of this was going. The first thing Oliver did was head toward his personal bar. She quickly stepped between him and the booze.

"No way. You expect me to stay, you are not getting any more buzzed than you already are."

"You are such a killjoy," he said. But then he shrugged his shoulders and headed toward the couch. "You're the boss."

She thought of reminding him that _he_ was the boss, but somehow, she didn't want to. He sat down on the couch and she moved toward the armchair beside it, but Oliver grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"You are impossible," he said without explanation, pulling her down beside him.

She thought about moving away; it would serve him right, but she didn't. Instead she kicked off her stilettos and tucked her bare feet underneath her.

"Feet cold?" he asked.

"Very," she nodded.

"Here," he said, lifting her slightly to move her away and pulling her legs out so her feet were on his lap. He started massaging them for her. Chloe released an involuntary groan, her eyes practically rolling back in her head at the feel of his hands, calloused and weathered from the bow and arrow. He smirked. When on earth did she get to be so sexy? "So," he said, pulling himself together as he continued to work at her feet, "Chloe Sullivan, who says we are not good friends, tell me about yourself."

She opened an eye to look at him, not sure whether he was serious. Apparently, he was. "What do you want to know?"

He thought for a moment. "What's your favorite color?"

"It changes."

"Most frequently?"

She thought. "Green. And no," she saw the words forming on his lips, "it has nothing to do with you."

"Sure," he grinned. "Favorite band?"

"The Who."

"Childhood ambition."

"Be a reporter." Duh.

"Right. I knew that one." He laughed. "Biggest secret?"

She looked at him, a shocked expression on her face. "I'm not telling you that!"

"Well now I just have to know because apparently it's really juicy. Come on. You know all my secrets."

"True," she said, mulling it over for a moment. Then finally, "My mother was institutionalized. Doctors have warned me that her condition might be hereditary." She was doing it again, that thing where she looked anywhere but _at_ him. Sympathy gripped Oliver's heart. He knew nothing about Chloe's family, or lack thereof, for that matter. He reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Hey," he said. "You'll be fine."

She scoffed. "Like you'd know."

"I do," he said determinedly. "Because if someone as capable as you can't keep it together, no one can." He squeezed her hand before releasing it to return to her feet, which were slowly warming up.

"Next question," she said finally.

"Do you want to ask me one?" he offered, thinking it was only fair.

"Is there anything I don't know that you're willing to tell me?"

_How about the fact that I keep thinking about the fact that you're not wearing a bra right now?_ Oliver shook the thought from his head. "No. Guess not."

"So..." she prompted.

"Let's see...worst experience with a guy. Before you met me," he added, cutting her off. He enjoyed the amusement dancing behind her eyes at that.

"There are so many."

"Name a couple then."

"Before I knew you...Well, I dated a guy for barely forty-eight hours before finding out he had telekinetic abilities. Seventy-two hours before I found out he was using them to murder people."

Oliver stared at her. "Wait, there are experiences that compete with that?"

She laughed slightly, nodding. "There was the arrogant football player I wasn't really interested in who tried to absorb all my body heat and freeze me to death. There was the guy who could split himself into two people who dated me and my friend at the same time before trying to throw both of us off a bridge. There was the disturbed Russian exchange student who had the ability to control the people around him like puppets. He actually held me hostage at one point, after forcing me to kiss him, of course. That was fun. Then there was the yearbook photographer who tried to trap me in high school forever under threat of turning me into some sort of weird human sculpture. And of course, the guy who killed his own father, at his father's request mind, when his dad turned out to be meteor infected. Then he tried to aim a nuke at Smallville, and who was the one person he wanted to save? Why, the reporter who would tell the world his story, of course. Oh, and in second grade a boy tried to kiss me so I threw dirt in his face and got sent home from school." She laughed.

Oliver just gaped. "You're life is--"

"Screwed up. I know."

"Bizarre. How on earth did you turn out so normal?"

"Normal? Oliver, I currently make a living as the babysitter for a league of superheroes."

"Good point." He stared at her. "Jeez, no wonder you had a thing for Clark. Seems like you attract homicidal freaks. You need constant protection." He thought of Davis and then marveled at the fact that Chloe was alive. Maybe it was some sort of miracle that she was so close to Clark growing up. Otherwise, she might not have survived.

Chloe sighed. It was true.

"Is it really cheesy if I say I'm glad you lived through all of that because I'm really glad I met you?"

"Extremely cheesy," she agreed, blushing anyway.

He watched her for a while. She really was incredibly beautiful. Not just that, she was stunning, intelligent, sarcastic, controlling, stubborn, interfering, caring, loyal, and just flat out sexy. If he was being honest with himself, he'd noticed it long before that night. He was only just now coming to terms with it.

"Chloe," he said slowly.

She looked at him sharply. "Don't, Oliver." She pulled her feet away and sat up a little more.

He ignored her. "Are you honestly going to tell me--"

"Oliver, I'm begging you. Just don't." She started to get up but he stopped her.

"Chloe, I think we've been trying to ignore this for a long time--"

"Oliver--"

"And we're both doing a really lousy job--"

"It's a bad idea--"

"Because we both know what we want--"

"Please, Ollie--"

"And neither of us is going to be satisfied until we accept it--"

She gasped as he pulled her to him, bringing his lips to a stop just a breath from her own.

"Tell me not to."

"Ollie, I--"

"If you say no, I'll stop. We'll forget it happened."

"Please--"

"Please, what?"

She tried to say it. She really did, but he was so close, so intoxicating. She couldn't think straight when he had her pressed into his chest like that. She could feel his heart beat and his breathing and she could smell his cologne and he was so warm. She just couldn't get the blasted word out.

And so he kissed her, moving his lips against hers persuasively until she gave in, melting into him. His grip on her waist only tightened more possessively, loving the feel of her against him. He pulled her toward him more, leaning back against the couch so she had to bend her head down to him, straddling his thigh. Slowly, he coaxed her to open her mouth to him, slipping his tongue in to duel with hers. Her hands went from his chest to his face, holding him to her. Then she broke away.

"Oliver," she breathed. "This is a very bad idea."

"On the contrary," he said, pulling her back to him. "I think it is by far the best decision I've ever made."

"Doesn't mean it's not a bad idea," she whispered before surrendering again. There was just no fighting it. He was right. They both knew what they wanted, and neither of them was going to be satisfied until they got it. At the feel of his arousal pressing against her thigh and her own pooling like liquid heat in her stomach, she knew exactly what she wanted, and it was more than just the obvious.

**Author's Comment: I just want to say that that little paragraph about all the men Chloe's had to deal with is my complaint against the writers of Smallville for constantly screwing Chloe over. She deserves a happy ending that last longer than her two minutes of marriage to Jimmy.**


End file.
